


Emotional + Release

by DancesOn2



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dominant Jack, Fluff and Smut, Fucking, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Praise Kink, Smut, emotional jack, submissive mac, two idiots in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:49:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28589058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancesOn2/pseuds/DancesOn2
Summary: Jack is emotional after Mac comes close to getting himself killed on a mission. Mac finds an interesting way to help relieve their tension. (MacDalton)
Relationships: Jack Dalton/Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 53





	Emotional + Release

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to friends (you know who you are) for encouraging this entirely self-indulgent piece of emotionally-charged smut that I just needed to get out of my system. Honestly I haven't got a clue how to tag this, so please let me know if I've missed something important.

They enter the house quietly, carefully, but there’s only a thin veneer covering the emotions Jack wants to express. How Mac could’ve died. How he needs to be more careful. Needs to _god damn listen_ when Jack is doing everything in his power to keep Mac safe. He’s practically vibrating with anger right now, brought on by the fright Mac had given him, and there’s no way Mac hasn’t noticed.

It’s still recent this relationship, being a couple rather than just a partnership. They’re living in the same space now and Jack has never been more aware of what that means as he is in this moment.

Mac is more quiet than usual, pliant even, as Jack guides him with a possessive hand on his shoulder to the couch and gives only the gentlest of downward pressure once they get there, but Mac just sits. 

“Take off your shirt, Mac. I’ll change the dressing like the doc said, before we do anything else.” 

Mac nods and starts unbuttoning, but he’s only part way done when he stands up suddenly. “Jack, I . . .”

Jack raises his eyebrows, lets a little of the frustrated concern he’s feeling show, “What?”

“I left the burn cream and dressing in the car. In the paper bag medical gave me.”

Jack wonders if that’s what he was going to say the first try. His tone of voice is back much closer to Mac’s usual fond belligerent one when it comes to Jack being overbearing. Then Mac tilts his head and raises an eyebrow and, quick as that, Jack _knows_ that look. Mac’s hesitation is almost completely gone and in its place is a look of assessment. Like he’s _almost_ figured out a puzzle and any moment now he’ll have a brilliant answer. 

Jack draws a sharp breath, feeling suddenly out of his depth with that look, a look usually reserved for thermal dynamics or the deepest of conundrums. Instead, this time, it’s aimed squarely at him. He gently pushes Mac back toward the couch, undoing another of Mac’s shirt buttons for him, before pressing their foreheads together for a moment. He wants to tell Mac how scared he was today. How worried. How he thought Mac had died for a moment, but he can’t seem to put the words together.

“Let me grab it for you,” he says instead, breathing a little too hard, and it takes all his willpower to walk rather than run back to the car.

The problem Jack knows is that he would normally settle Mac in, take whatever time he needs to make sure he was okay. But eventually he would go home to his own apartment where he could curse and pace and punch something. He’d let himself be angry at what could have been. How he could have lost Mac to his recklessness yet again and how he wouldn’t have survived the ensuing feelings of hopelessness at failing to protect him. Then he’d crash with a Bruce Willis movie of choice, a comforting familiarity that holds no surprises, and he’d watch until he falls asleep sipping on a cold beer. 

He loves Mac, in part, because he can unsettle him like this emotionally. But it didn’t mean he had to be comfortable with it. It had been a long mission. A long week. He’d almost lost Mac again. And he really wants to let go.

“Dammit!” Jack curses, smacks a hardened hand into the top of the car, before unlocking it and grabbing the medical supplies that he finds tucked into the front passenger door. 

When he looks back up to the house, there’s movement at the window, fleeting. Gone so quickly he’s not sure if it was ever there. Back inside, he finds Mac seated on the couch where Jack had left him, shirt now discarded to the cushion beside him. And Jack kneels between Mac’s legs silently, snaps on some gloves and sets about removing the old dressings that cover the small electrical burns smattered across Mac’s chest.

Mac reaches out one hand, curls it at the nape of Jack’s neck, long fingers dancing across the short hair that ends there.

“While I appreciate the help, I could do this, you know,” Mac says softly. “You look tired.”

“Just . . . I need to do it,” Jack allows, swallowing around the emotions that won’t settle, that make his lungs feel too tight, and Mac only nods like maybe he understands. 

“Okay.”

Jack applies the cream almost reverentially over each small burn, pausing when Mac’s breath hitches whenever Jack touches a particularly sensitive one, and each time Mac’s hand tightens minutely where it rests on Jack’s neck. Then Jack carefully covers each one back up with the adhesive dressing and he finds that he feels a little calmer when he’s done.

When he looks up from Mac’s chest, he finds himself staring into those intense blue eyes that he’s fallen in love with over and again since Afghanistan. But the studious look is back, this time tempered by something almost contrite, sad, and Jack finds he can’t hold that gaze. Not tonight. Not with the worry, fear and anger still crawling just beneath the surface of his skin. His hard-won calm is quickly unravelling again.

Mac’s brow furrows and Jack surges forward, and for a moment there’s nothing but the sound of their breathing, and soft messy kisses. Jack’s fingers grip tightly into Mac’s hips and he groans in frustration, deepening the kisses deliberately until they are anything but gentle. Tongues clash and when they pull back for air, Jack nips at Mac’s lip with a low growl.

Jack snaps off the gloves and sets his hands on top of Mac’s thighs, using them to push himself back to standing.

“I need a moment to myself, Mac. I just, I need a moment,” Jack somehow gets the words out, before he surges across the living room, down the hall and into their room.

Jack closes the door with more force than required, his emotions finding a childish thrill in the sound it makes as it slams shut. Then he just paces in front of the bed for a while, from window to door. He throws the pillows and comforter off the bed with a wild angry energy and laughs a little at his own antics before coming to a standstill with his back to the room, eyes on the darkening sky outside the window. He imagines for a moment it represents his mood, then laughs again. “You’re losing it, Dalton,” he mutters. But he doesn’t stop staring even as the sky soon becomes as dark as it is able to get against the backdrop of California’s city lights. 

He isn’t sure how long he’s been standing like that before he hears the gentlest of sounds as the door to the bedroom opens and then snicks closed again.

“I said I need a moment to myself, Mac,” Jack all but growls beneath his breath. He’s mostly calm now, but not quite ready to let this go, even as he imagines he must look like a big moody teenager brooding in the window.

When Mac doesn’t answer, Jack turns around ready to say something he might regret, but instead his breath catches in his throat.

Before him, Mac is kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed. He’s completely naked. His hands held out palm up as if in supplication, head bowed, long neck arching as his golden hair falls gently into his face.

“Mac?” Jack whispers. He forces his body to be still, even as every fibre of his being wants to touch the expanse of smooth, freckled skin held like an offering before him. “Mac?” he asks again and, when there’s still no answer, strides quickly to Mac’s side to crouch beside him.

He reaches out to touch, but finds his hand shakes, pauses just above the oh so pale skin he wants so desperately to stroke. He finally places his hand on the nape of Mac’s neck, squeezing gently, before slowly sliding his hand down Mac’s spine, feeling the delicate skin that covers each bump of solid vertebrae until his hand rests at the hollow of Mac’s spine. He rests his palm there, feeling a gentle shiver chase through Mac along the same path his hand has just taken. Jack swipes his thumb down even lower between firm cheeks and Mac sucks in an unsteady breath, but still doesn’t utter a sound.

“Mac?” Jack tries again. Voice gone rough as he feels the tightness in his chest shift, temporarily displaced by a very different sort of heat that sits much lower down and has him catching his breath again. “I . . . you have no idea what you’re doing to me right now, Mac. You look so beautiful and I don’t . . .”

As Mac remains stubbornly silent and still, Jack licks his lips, swallows and then smiles wickedly as he decides to play along. He stands in single motion and sees Mac shiver again as Jack’s warm palm slides away from the warm expanse of skin.

“On your feet, soldier.” Jack barks the order, letting his voice drop low and dirty.

Despite having given the order, Jack still feels a rush when Mac gets to his feet without hesitation, his blue eyes glistening now with mischief as he stands at attention.

“Explain yourself,” he states in the same low growl.

As Jack’s eyes roam lower, his excitement is tempered by the sight of the dressings scattered across Mac’s chest. That burst of frustrated anger flares again. They’ve never done anything like this before and while, judging from the tightness that’s building against the seam of his jeans, the idea clearly excites him, he’s pretty sure they would usually have at least ground rules and a safe word just in case. Part of him screams at the back of his mind that Mac is being reckless yet again, but he reigns it in. Tamps it down with a deep breath in and out and waits for Mac to speak. 

“I had time to think while you were in here . . . emoting,” Mac says.

Jack chuckles in surprise. “Guess I deserve that.” 

“And I thought it’d be nice _not_ to have to think for a while and that you might enjoy me following your orders without question for once,” he almost whispers this second part.

Jack slides closer, pulling Mac’s naked body into his own clothed one and Mac moans against Jack’s throat as he feels the hard evidence for himself of how much Jack likes the idea.

“Yes,” Jack says.

Jack steps back again and allows himself to mentally ravish Mac for a moment, taking in every freckle and blonde hair, every precious mole and every scar. The size and length of his half hard cock. He circles like a predator, spellbound, as he thinks.

“Do you like what you see, Sir?” Mac’s voice is so soft and submissive that it takes a moment for Jack to register Mac has spoken.

Jack steps up behind Mac, wraps his arms around his stomach and fits his chin against Mac’s shoulder, so that his mouth is right against Mac’s ear as he chuckles deeply. “Very much so, but . . .” Jack feels Mac tense at the ‘but’, “I think you need to tell me a few things.”

Mac nods, and with a little encouragement from Jack, leans his weight into Jack’s chest, until they are so close that he can see Mac’s eyes gleaming with a barely contained excitement.

“Safe word?” Jack asks.

“Phoenix,” Mac replies and Jack chuckles deep in his throat at the choice.

“What else do I need to know?”

“I know you’d never hurt me,” Mac says and Jack huffs in annoyance, because while it’s obvious to him that isn’t the point. “But, for the record,” Mac continues, “no gags or choking, nothing unreasonably painful, no claiming marks or bruises where I can’t cover them.”

“Fair,” Jack agrees. None of those things would cross his mind anyway and he wonders briefly who else Mac may have done this with, before he mentally shakes away the jealousy and growls out, “On the bed, on your back. I plan to fuck you so hard.”

Mac makes a small sound of surprise and goes eagerly. The bed’s comforter and pillows are already on the floor from Jack’s earlier . . . emoting. And Mac already looks for all the world like something out of a wet dream as he lies there, waiting for another direction, limbs splayed open and wanton. There’s a certain patient stillness in the way he lies there, not even fidgeting, that seems almost surreal and desperately beautiful in a man who can rarely stop moving under normal circumstances.

“You have no idea how amazing you look, Mac,” Jack praises and, to his surprise, a blush of red makes its way up Mac’s chest.

It shouldn’t surprise him though, Jack thinks, that Mac is turned on by praise, but Jack can’t take his eyes off the sight as he makes his way to the side table and fumbles open the drawer without looking, feels around until he finds the lube. 

He keeps his voice low, muttering more praises, “so amazing, baby, laid out for me, waiting just like you’re told, so perfect,” just to see if that beautiful blush will spread further. It does, and Jack groans at the sight, shifts about uncomfortably in his jeans, as he sits on the bed and places the lube in Mac’s out-stretched hand. He leans in and kisses Mac, hard and dirty, nipping at his lips before dragging his beard along Mac’s cheek until his mouth is right up against Mac’s ear.

His voice is steel and heat when he whispers his next command. “Open yourself up for me, hoss. Get yourself, nice and slick and hot.” He nibbles Mac’s earlobe as he hears Mac’s breath stutter and turn rough. “I want to watch you fuck yourself open with those beautiful long fingers of yours. Do you understand what I’m asking?”

“Yes, Sir,” Mac replies. His voice is rough and breathy.

Jack hears a snick as the bottle opens and he turns his head slightly, watches as Mac slicks up his fingers.

“Oh fuck, that’s hot, Mac,” Jack praises as he rises from the mattress watching, as Mac brings his knees up and then lets his legs splay open as he reaches between them to push one long finger in a slick slide inside himself. Mac stares into Jack’s eyes and pants as he does so and Jack is suddenly far too aware of how tight his jeans are.

He keeps his eyes on Mac as he kicks off his shoes and socks. He pulls his shirt off over his head . . . then pauses, breath catching, as Mac draws his hand back with a wet pop and adds more lube before sliding two fingers inside himself already.

“Doing so good, baby. Gotta stretch yourself wide so I can slide right inside you. Gonna ride you so hard,” Jack promises. His voice is rough and wanting as Mac lets out a choked gasp of pleasure and curls and scissors his fingers inside himself, his cock is already heavy and hard against his stomach. Jack suddenly cannot get out of his clothes fast enough.

Mac’s eyes stay focused on Jack as he keeps working himself open, watching with a greedy expression as Jack undresses in a deliberately slow striptease, more skin exposed with each shift of clothing. Jack’s belt hits the ground, and despite the many times he has been the center of Mac’s attention, this is different. This is a rush.

Jack pushes down his jeans and boxers in one swift motion and his hard cock springs free just as Mac adds a third finger and goddamn moans with pleasure. Mac’s free hand fists into the mattress as he writhes a little, and Jack suddenly finds it very hard to breathe.

“Holy shit, Mac, you have no idea how hot you look. What you’re doing to me. I can’t . . .” Jack’s voice comes out higher than he means it to, as he strokes himself a few times, then grips himself and breathes in and out to calm himself. He crawls onto the bed between Mac’s knees. He kisses up the inside of Mac’s thighs with reverential fervour. Covering Mac with his body as he removes his leather cuff and pins Mac’s free hand above his head, then attaches the cuff to Mac’s wrist as Mac watches eyes blown wide with want.

“Yours,” Mac whispers and Jack nods, eyes watering with emotion as he chokes back a sob. 

Jack slides back down and takes a gentle hold of Mac’s other wrist, feeling how the delicate bones move rhythmically beneath the silky skin as Mac’s fingers continue to work himself open. 

“Stop now,” Jack breathes, and Mac, just stops. Jacks pulls on Mac’s wrist and guides his fingers out with a messy wet sound. 

Mac watches, eyes blown wide with want, as Jack guides those beautifully messy fingers to his own aching cock. “Slick me up,” he whispers.

Mac slides his fingers along Jack’s length with a firm stroke, both Mac’s and Jack’s hips shift subconsciously with each slide, and it feels so good that Jack has to breathe through it. Three firm stokes and Jack simply groans, “enough” and Mac stills again.

“God, your beautiful,” Jack pants out and he leans down, shifts to lift Mac’s hips as he lines himself up, and then slides inside Mac with one long slow push, groaning his pleasure, “Oh fuck, Mac,” until he’s balls deep in hot slick heat. He stills once he’s there, and after a beat, he feels Mac push back toward him on a desperate whine.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard and deep and fast, Mac. You ready for it?” And it’s dirty talk, but it’s also a warning. Jack doesn’t think either of them will last long and he’s too turned on to go slow.

“Yes, Sir. Come on, Jack, fuck me!” Mac growls.

Jack doesn’t need to be told twice. He pulls out almost completely, then slams in deep again with a possessive growl, then sets a brutal pace. Mac pants and moans as Jack shouts, “yes, fuck, Mac,” in time with the punishing rhythm of his hips and the accompanying wet slap of skin on skin. Jack’s St Christopher medal dangles and bounces on his sweat slick chest as Mac cries out “Jack, yes!” as Jack’s hips snap just right and he feels Mac clench around him, his face scrunching at the sudden exquisite pleasure compounding through him with each forceful thrust. 

“Oh shit, oh fuck, Jack,” Mac cries, brows squeezed tight as he twists his head on the mattress. “Jack, I’m gonna. I can’t . . .”

“Not yet,” Jack growls out, and Mac’s eyes fly open. “You’ve been so good for me,” he pants out. “Just hold on a bit . . . longer, not yet.”

“Fuck, please Jack, I’m not sure I can . . .” Mac starts, but his breath stutters as he struggles to hold back, his hands squeeze bruising marks into Jack’s back as he stretches and clenches unbelievably tighter around Jack’s cock. Mac’s whole body is practically vibrating with his need.

“Not yet, I’m so close, hoss, just wait . . .” Jack repeats in a voice that brooks no argument. He feels himself reaching the end of his own limits, hips stuttering in their rhythm, gasping with each hot slide inside Mac until he’s sure there’s no way he can hold off any longer either.

“Come for me, baby,” he gasps. And Mac keens as he comes, hot and wet and long, across both their bellies, clenching down so hard that Jack can only scream Mac’s name like a prayer before he’s coming so hard he sees stars.

He may have passed out for a moment, not that he’d ever admit it, but the next moment Jack’s aware he’s collapsed across Mac’s chest, still buried balls deep in slick heat. Mac’s legs are wrapped around him, holding him tightly in place as he gently pats and clutches at Jack’s hair as he slowly comes down. Mac hums a sound of pure contentment that vibrates right through their joined bodies and Jack chuckles in agreement.

“Jesus, Mac! I’ve never come so hard in my life. That was so fucking amazing, I don’t have words,” Jack mumbles into the skin of Mac’s neck, shifts just enough to be sure he isn’t putting any weight on one of the burns at Mac’s chest. He still feels far too tired to move, but he starts to sloppily nip and suck the skin at Mac’s collar bone, just there, low enough that a t-shirt will easily cover his work. His own claiming mark he can remember, instead of the ugly burns they hope will heal with time.

Mac lifts his chin, stretching his neck and making more space for Jack to work, silently giving permission. Jack moans and lifts himself up on shaky arms, working with renewed fervour.

Mac twitches and groans and pants quietly, unable to keep entirely still as Jack teases the tender patch of skin over and again, licking, blowing, sucking and nipping in turn. All the while Mac keeps gently running his fingers through Jack’s hair, pulling each time Jack makes Mac’s breath hitch and it spurs him on.

When Jack pushes himself up higher, finally satisfied with his work, he looks down into Mac’s face. Mac’s beautiful blue eyes are only half open, blonde hair wildly mussed against the mattress and there’s a satisfied smirk gracing the perfect bow of his lips. The man takes Jack’s breath away and fills him with such warmth and emotion.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” Jack asks, as he leans in to press a line of kisses along that gorgeous smirk that’s driving him wild. “I never want to lose you, Mac,” he whispers.

“I love you, too, Jack,” Mac mumbles.

He knows that they should move, clean up, maybe even talk. But Jack thinks it can wait a little while longer. He leans back sliding hands along ticklish sides, to perfect hips and curly dark blonde hair, before sliding out of Mac with a sad sound at the loss of perfect contact and a small hiss as over-sensitive skin hits the cool air.

Jack clumsily reaches for the fitted sheet, tugging until an elastic corner pops free and he swipes at Mac’s belly and legs sleepily.

Mac just smiles and yawns looking so innocent in his afterglow, and Jack curls up into Mac’s warm side. Wraps him firmly in his arms. Jack feels those clever fingers once again gently stroking his short hair as he sighs happily and allows sleep to claim him.


End file.
